


Apt Pupil

by facetofcathy



Series: 2008 Kink Bingo Blackout [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Breathplay, Community: kink_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-03
Updated: 2008-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facetofcathy/pseuds/facetofcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney thinks John needs some instruction, but has forgotten the old adage that starts out, 'be careful what you wish for...'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apt Pupil

The idea had seemed sound.  John didn't lack for enthusiasm and certainly not for imagination.  The man had a filthy, filthy imagination; he just needed some technical guidance.  After all if John Sheppard wanted to suddenly take up sex with men at the age of forty that was fine with Rodney, just as long as Rodney was the only man of course.  Rodney banged his head against the wall.  He'd lost count of the number of times he'd been up against one wall or another lately, and it wasn't like Rodney wasn't benefiting in a really, really big way from what could only in fairness be described as John Sheppard's quest to become the best cocksucker in the galaxy, hell any galaxy.  Rodney was benefiting all right.  He was benefiting so often he was starting to get bored.  Rodney looked down, and John was looking up at him with that cast to his eyes, the one that meant he was going to do that thing with his tongue.  "Jesus John, yeah like that.  Oh, yes. Yes, God yes. Ahhhh."  Okay, maybe not actually bored.

***

The difficult part had been finding five interrupted minutes that weren't in the middle of sex, or just before or just after for that matter.  Rodney finally hit on the idea of just barging into John's office first thing in the morning.  He just had to be early enough to beat Major Lorne to the chair opposite the desk. 

"Okay, listen," Rodney said. 

John looked up from his laptop.  "You're not Lorne."

"Glad you can tell the difference.  So, listen-"

"He's much nicer than you.  He brings me coffee," John interrupted.

"I don't give _anyone_ coffee.  Listen-"

"Like I said, much nicer."  John smirked at him.

"Sheppard," Rodney shouted.

"Listening."

"I want, that is to say I think I should give you some, well not suggestions really.  It's just that the time for instruction is often not in the middle of doing, and not that I'm presuming to instruct or - oh and don't think for a minute I'm not ah, satisfied, really never think that.  Um…"

"Rodney," John said very slowly.  "Are you trying to give me sex tips?"

"Um, yes?"

"And you thought my office was a good place to do that?  What if Major Lorne walks in?"

"Oh, the way I hear it he doesn't need any tips.  Oh-oh, not to say that you do, I just - okay just listen."

"Didn't we already try that?" John was laughing at him, which for some reason he always found calmed him down.  With anyone else it just made him enraged, well except for Ronon, and wasn't that an interesting thought, but…

Rodney took a deep breath.  "Okay, focusing.  The most important thing is breathing.  You have to be comfortable, and you have to breathe.  Well obviously you have to breathe.  So, you have to pay more attention to your breathing at first until it gets to be automatic.  Once you're relaxed about your breathing, your whole body relaxes and then it's just easy.  Once it's easier, you can um, try more advanced techniques.  There, that's all I wanted to say."  Rodney took another deep breath.

"So I need to breathe and I need to practice."  John was looking at him with this weird light in his eye and an evil, evil grin.  "Good to know.  Oh hey Lorne, coffee - fantastic.  Rodney was just leaving."

***

The first time John had ambushed him in the corridor, dragged him into an empty room, pushed him up against a wall, and _practised_ on him was about two hours later.  After a couple of weeks of regular practise in some most irregular locations, Rodney was ready to dissolve into a permanent puddle of goo.  He was also getting a little tetchy. 

The first guy Rodney had ever gone down on had zipped up after and said, "Jeez, McKay with that mouth of yours, I thought you'd be better than that." Rodney had felt a hot rush of shame for about half a second and then remembered his first rule - if Rodney McKay does something, he does it better than anyone else. So he set out to become the best at giving head he could possibly be. In the interests of true expertise at the virtuoso level, he hadn't restricted himself to men either. Well in all honesty, that was really in the interests of his own greedy, indiscriminate sexual appetites. Since then he'd always fancied himself to be the best at that particular skill, well the best amateur; he didn't count professionals as they had too much opportunity to refine their technique. But, if he didn't do something to derail John's little training regime, he'd very quickly become the second best and that was just not acceptable.

***

Rodney checked his watch and quickened his pace.  He slid inside before the door was even open all the way, locked the door behind him and slid into the chair in John's office.  He'd seen the familiar figure of Major Lorne rounding the corner at the end of the corridor. 

"Listen," Rodney said.

John leaned back in his chair and looked smug.

"What I said before - about breathing being the most important thing?  Well that was true as far as it goes.  But there's an exception to every rule, except the immutable laws of physics of course, but that's a conversation that would be more fun to have with Radek than with you, so - anyway.  Breathing is the most important thing except when it's not.  So pay attention here, this is important."  Rodney leaned forward and tapped John sharply on the arm with two fingers.  "One tap means back off."  He tapped John sharply twice.  "Two means go for it."  Rodney stood up just as the door chime sounded.  "My quarters.  Ten o'clock."

Rodney opened the door to a startled Major Lorne holding two cups of coffee.  "Should I start bringing a third cup?"  Lorne asked, face and voice bland.

"I'll let you know."  Rodney headed for the lab. 

***

Rodney was lying on his bed, taking his own advice and getting comfortable and relaxed.  The door slid open and John wandered in and turned and watched the door close, eyebrows raised.

"I fixed the door so it opens for you.  You don't have to hit the chime," Rodney explained.

"And you don't have to get up," John said wryly.

"A minor consideration."  Rodney swung his legs over and sat up.  He waited for John to quit staring at the door.  When he turned around, Rodney stood and walked the three steps necessary to put him right up close and personal.  "John," he said, laying one hand gently on John's shoulder.  "Tonight it's your turn up against the wall."  Rodney fisted the cloth under his hand and pushed John backwards until he was banging, not very gently, into the wall by the foot of the bed.  From under his bed, Rodney pulled a good-sized chunk of the springy Ancient material that covered the sparring room floor.  Rodney sank to his knees, got back up and stripped out of everything but his socks and got back down on the floor.  "Take a step forward," Rodney said. 

John looked confused. 

"Trust me you're going to need the room to manoeuvre."

John's face was lit with sudden understanding and a bright spark of lust.  He stepped forward and started yanking at his belt.  Rodney batted his hands away and pulled his pants open and then down.  He left John exposed to just above his knees.  John was nearly fully hard. 

Rodney ran his hands slowly up John's legs, ruffling against the coarse black hair as he went.  He set his left hand easy and loose against John's hip and kept it there.  He took John's cock in his right hand in the same grip and leaned in to lick the head, lazy and relaxed.  He let his hand wander down and fondle at John's balls.

John was flailing about a little, not knowing where to put his hands.  "This is the only time I've ever wished you had more hair," he said ruefully.

Rodney pulled off and glared up at him.  "This is the only time I don't."

Rodney opened his mouth and slid down the delicious length of John's cock.  He loved the taste, clean sort of, and salty and alive.  John let one hand settle against the back of Rodney's head and let it rest there, riding along as Rodney bobbed his head, going deeper each time.  Rodney moved his right hand away from its fondling travels and slid his first two fingers slowly up John's leg.  He tapped his fingers very lightly twice. 

John gasped quietly and let his hips move easy and slow.  He kept his hand on Rodney's head loose and easy. 

Rodney relaxed his mouth, let his eyes drift shut, and tapped his fingers twice again with a little more force. 

John firmed his grip on Rodney's head, more bracing than pulling, and thrust harder and deeper. 

Rodney was relaxing more, breathing easy through his nose, letting himself fall into the rhythm of John's thrusts.  John pulled back; Rodney sucked in as much air as he could and held it.  He tapped John's leg twice hard.

John jerked forward and then thrust harder and faster, going deeper each time.  Rodney let the air out of his lungs in a slow exhale.  John's grip on his head tightened and held him motionless.  Rodney let John keep going until the air in his lungs was gone, and his nostrils fluttered trying to draw in more and mostly failing.  John was thrusting hard and fast now, moaning and cursing, digging his fingers into Rodney's head.  Rodney waited, focusing on the sounds John was making, and the sensation of his cock sliding over Rodney's tongue, questing ever deeper.  He waited until the sound of blood was rushing in his ears and sparks danced on the back of his eyelids.  He waited until he couldn't anymore.  He tapped John once very hard. 

John pulled back with, stuttered a half thrust, and then stood absolutely still.  Rodney tightened his grip on John's hip and moved his right hand to jack John's cock firmly while he dropped his head and gasped in air in deep gulps.  When he could breathe somewhere in the neighbourhood of easy again, he slid his mouth onto John again and reached to tap his leg.

"More?" John said, incredulously.

Rodney pulled off and ground out, "Oh yeah," in a harsh rasp.

John made an inarticulate noise of consent.

He slid easily down John's length, throat relaxing and mouth slack.  He tapped twice hard on John's thigh and again harder when John hesitated to move.

John groaned out, "God Rodney," and thrust harder and faster than he had before.  Rodney let the air out of his lungs again, pinned between John's hard grip on his head and his thrusting hips.  John's low voiced moans and profanity were the only sound in the world, John's cock the only taste.  The sparks danced in his eyes again and the roaring in his ears muffled the curses John was now shouting.  Rodney had lifted his fingers, preparing to tap once emphatically, but John pulled back almost too far, and then the hand on Rodney's head was gone, and he was moving automatically, sucking hard and swirling his tongue once before John was crying out and coming in pulsing waves.  The taste of come bloomed on Rodney's tongue bitter and wonderful.  He swallowed, relishing the pain of contracting muscles he'd been keeping loose with come burning on the way down.  John was stumbling, blindly reaching out behind him for the support of the wall.  He was tripping, bound by his clothes, and Rodney was following him, licking the last traces of come off John's cock and then finally just holding him up with a hard grip on his bare hips. 

Rodney spared a thought for the days when he was in his twenties and could just collapse on the floor after doing something like that.  He looked up at John, barely able to stand against the wall, looking wrecked and electrified and beautiful and decided nostalgia was overrated.  He struggled to his feet, inelegantly to be sure, and collapsed on the bed, his chest heaving and jaw aching.  He looked up at the diplomas hung on the wall over his bed and started laughing, harsh and ragged and happy.


End file.
